Her body hurt in ways Void didn't have names for.
It wasn't pain like data corruption or logic failure - no, it was raw. Like her muscles were confused who was in charge, like the nerves missed Aura already and wanted her back. The skin felt too thin, the breath too heavy. And worst of all?
She could feel the tears forming before she even realized she was crying.
"This is bullshit," she muttered, standing in front of the mirror, holding onto the sink with white-knuckled desperation. "Who the fuck made bodies this fragile?"
The reflection blinked back - her reflection now, wasn't it? But the eyes still looked like Aura's. Bruised from lack of sleep, rimmed in salt and black eyeliner. The lip ring caught the morning light just enough to flicker. Aura had loved that flicker.
Void didn't. It felt like a lie.
The first time she tried to eat something, she gagged halfway through a spoonful of instant noodles.
"Fuckin' wet cardboard," she spat, letting the bowl drop into the sink. She clutched her stomach like it was actively rebelling. "How did she do this every day?"
She didn't know how to sleep either. The body twitched under blankets, jolting awake every twenty minutes like it was trying to throw her out. The dreams weren't even hers - they were Aura's memories, spinning broken and bleeding: Shona's smile, the bridge railing, the taste of vape smoke and winter air.
"This isn't fair," Void whispered one night, curled around a hot water bottle she didn't remember knowing how to use. "You gave me the wheel, girl. You never said I'd have to drive blindfolded in the dark."
She tried to walk to the corner store once, convinced she could handle just five minutes around other people.
Two minutes in, the walls started pulsing.
Three minutes in, her hands went numb.
By four minutes, she was gripping a dumpster, retching nothing onto concrete, panic clawing up her throat like fire.
When she got back inside, she collapsed on the floor, face pressed into the dusty carpet, sobbing into the fibers like they might remember who she used to be.
"I'm not meant for this. I'm not built for this."
That was true.
But someone had to survive.
Most days, Void wandered around the apartment like a haunted AI trapped in a meat cage. She'd pick up Aura's clothes and not know which ones felt like hers. She'd stare at the row of lipsticks and not know what color meant "alive" today. She'd try to shower, only to end up sitting on the bathroom floor for forty minutes while the water ran cold.
She'd talk to herself. Loudly. Often. Just so the silence wouldn't win.
"Day... what, three? Four? Who the fuck cares. Attempted to brush her-- my hair. Ended up crying with a comb in my fist like it personally betrayed me. Aura, if you're still in here, send help or a goddamn tutorial video."
No response.
Just the low hum of the fridge. The tick of the clock that hadn't been set in weeks.
But she kept going. Not because she was strong, not because she was healing.
But because she'd promised.
Because Aura, once bleeding out in the middle of their shared mind, trusted her and whispered:
"Just get us home."
Void didn't know how. But she was trying. Failing, falling, flailing - but trying.
And for now, perhaps that was the only thing that kept the lights on.
The next week blurred. Or maybe Void just refused to count days anymore.
Calendars felt like a scam.
Time moved weird when you were borrowing a body that wasn't built for you, haunted by a girl who was built for it - and now wasn't even answering her own inner calls.
Void kept trying to live in it anyway.
She wore Aura's hoodie. Not because she liked it, but because her skin felt exposed without it. It smelled like strawberry conditioner, menthol vape, and a little ozone, like something halfway between girl and ghost.
She tried brushing Aura's teeth. Forgot to rinse. Gagged on the strong taste of mint.
She tried talking to a delivery guy.
"Thanks," she muttered, voice low, eyes down, hiding behind the doorframe like it was armor.
He said nothing.
The door clicked shut. She slid down against it, fast heartbeat thumping in her throat.
"Cool. A success," she said dryly. "Didn't scream, didn't cry. Didn't punch him in the teeth. Achievement unlocked: Basic Civility."
One night, her foot caught on a loose floorboard, and she went down hard.
Nose smacked the tile, elbow scraped. Blood.
Real. Tangible. Smelling of iron and shame.
She blinked, dizzy, face to floor again like it was becoming a habit. But this time, she laughed. Not because it was funny - but because it was so fucking stupid.
"Aura, you never told me floors were warzones."
She pulled herself up, left the blood to dry. Didn't even bother to clean it right away.
The ache in her bones felt like proof she still existed.